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Monday, August 31, 2009

We've spent a lot of time recently shopping for recliners. The whole idea is that since I can't sleep flat (or with my incline pillow) and it's not comfortable to sleep sitting straight up, maybe the recliner would be a nice compromise. A padded, comfy, partially reclining compromise.

Finally, (I am skipping the WHOLE long story here even though that story makes me a hero), we found a good deal on a reclining sofa and reclining loveseat set. Since the cats have been rough on the old set and the price was right for replacement, we jumped on it. They'll be delivered today, Monday. (See how tricky I am about that considering I'm writing this on Sunday night? Brilliant!)

I may have subconsciously sabotaged the early part of the search because I'm actually afraid of recliners. See, recliners (in my experience) are where old people go to die. Everyone in my mother's family either died in their recliner or spent their last few months living in the chair because they couldn't sleep flat.

Grampa scooped himself a bowl of his favorite ice cream, sat down in his recliner, major heart attack. Game over. I can't eat vanilla ice cream with cherries anymore.

Gramma had advanced emphysema due to smoking which meant no lying down flat for her. Cough cough cough! I can relate - to the coughing, not to the smoking. She lived in her recliner until her final hospital stay. Still begging for another cigarette.

Great-gramma died in her recliner at 87 years old. Not a clue who she was or where she might be but that woman loved her cookies!

See what I mean? I'm more afraid of recliners than I am of hospital beds!

This is why I think I finally agreed to Joe's over-the-top decision to buy a reclining loveseat and sofa. They may recline but they're different from the Chairs of Death.

Now if we can just get someone to buy our two perfectly-good slightly-used loveseats from us. Because 3 loveseats, 1 sofa, 1 piano, 1 entertainment cabinet and 2 crazy cats = way too much furniture for my living room.

23 comments:

Can't you train the cats to play the piano? That way they will out of the way, sitting on the piano stool playing Scot Joplin while you can relax in the recliner, puffing away. (Wait, you wouldn't be puffing.)

Yup, recliners are death traps... My mom spent a couple of years in one in a grim nursing home. They called it a Geri-chair. I called it the arms of Satan. But, she was comfy, apparently, and she didn't get bedsores. Ooh, sorry-- downer of me...

Why am I the only one looking on the bright side here? Instead of fearing recliners, why not fear bad habits like eating too many cookies and ice cream, or smoking? You GO with the reclining sofa and loveseats! Fear not!

About Me

It's a blog. I'll probably write stuff in it.
Me, I'm married, no kids, two cats, one boring job. My life isn't that exciting so I like to complicate things with overthinking, health issues, and anxiety attacks. I also enjoy reading, writing, travel (if I could control the anxiety attacks), wine, hockey, and music. And long walks on the beach. And a sugar daddy.